The royal advisor was babbling about something but Duskglow was paying him no mind, only snapping out of her daydream-y daze when he slammed his primary hands on the grainy, redwood desk. She’d never admit it but he had scared her good. “T’is is quite impartant yer grace. A yaung lady like yerself need ta learn t’e prapa ways o’ bein’ crown.” He scolded in his stupidly high, oily voice. Duskglow nodded, annoyed by being snapped back to reality and having to listen to her father’s advisor’s dumb voice again. Her antennae lowered, pinned against the back of her head bitterly. “Like you haven’t told me twenty hundred times over! Yell at me all you want you dull pile of crow droppings, I get it! Nobody said I wanted to be next crown, besides, Dawn actually wants to and she’s the older heir!” Duskglow snapped at the older Vixxom. Duskglow had always hated her father’s advisor, him, his oily voice, that unkempt amber fur that always seemed either greasy or matted. All of it! He groaned hearing that, it’s wh